I walk toward the bed and then turn suddenly, going to check on him. I try not to make any noise. The hallway is dark, and when I get closer to his bedroom, I see the light is off also. I stand here at the doorway, looking in at him.
His head turns, looking in my direction. "I’m sorry, Chelsea," he says softly and doesn’t wait for me to say anything. Instead, he turns his head toward the window. "Good night."
"Good night," I say, turning and walking back to my room. I slip into bed, turning on my side and I watch the darkness become light before my eyes slip closed.
When I wake up the next morning, my bedroom door is closed, and I panic that I missed something. I grab my robe and walk out of the room, but the stinging of my foot makes me stop as Ethan walks out of Mayson’s room.
"Is there a reason your gun is in his room?" He puts his arms over his chest. "Actually," he says, "maybe you should tell me why you didn’t call me before you went running into his room."
I glare at him. "Which question do you want answered first?" I fold my hands over my chest, and now he glares back at me.
He doesn't say anything as he looks at me , "What happened to your foot?"
"That’s three questions," I tell him, "and I need coffee." I ignore him and hobble over to the coffee machine. I look over and see that it’s already noon. "What time did you get here?"
"Eight," he says. "You were passed out snoring, so I closed your door."
"I didn’t hear you." I grab the cup of coffee and bring it to my lips.
"So let’s hear it," he says, ignoring what I just said.
"What is there to say? I heard crashing in the middle of the night, and when I ran to make sure he was okay, I sliced my foot." I hobble over to one of the stools.
"From what Mayson said…" he says, and I pfft out.
"From what Mayson said what?" I ask him. "If you don’t like it, take him and leave." He just looks at me. "If I’m doing something you don't approve of, you are more than welcome to take him and bring him to your house." I ignore the pounding in my chest and the burning in my stomach, thinking of him being anywhere else without me being able to make sure he is okay. "But if you are going to leave him here, you are going to do it with my rules."
"And what are those?" He leans back on the counter, crossing his feet at his ankles.
"One, what I do and when I do it, shouldn’t be questioned,” I say. "I am not going to tiptoe around. This is my house. I did what needed to be done at the moment."
"You could have been hurt," he points out.
"And he could have been dead," I counter at him. "But I’m not, and neither is he."
"But you’re hurt," he says, and I roll my eyes.
"It’s a cut," I tell him, not even going to mention I had to glue the cut back together.
"You should have called," he tells me.
"What would you have done?" I ask and don’t give him a chance to say anything else. "Raced over here for nothing. If there was any danger, they would have seen it." I mention the cameras. "Now, if you’ll excuse me," I say, getting up. "I have been craving biscuits and gravy." I walk back toward my bedroom, ignoring the pull to check on him.
Chapter 11
Mayson
I listen to the conversation taking place in the kitchen as I try to forget about what a dick I was to her last night. She rushed in here to save me, and all I could do was get my pride hurt and yell at her. It wasn’t my finest moment, especially since she was standing there bleeding. Instead of burying the anger, I just came at her.
"I have been craving biscuits and gravy," I hear her say and then hear her bedroom door slam again. She seems to be doing that a lot since I got here.
I hear his footsteps coming back toward my bedroom, and when Ethan walks in with his head shaking, I am rolling my lips, trying not to laugh. "Well, looks like you sure took care of that," I tell him, and he just glares at me.
"What got her panties in a twist? Who pissed her off?" Ethan says, looking at me, sitting down in the same chair he did this morning when he walked in. He stood there in the middle of the room and watched me walk back to the bed, never once asking me if I needed help.
When I woke up this morning, my eyes flew around the room, making sure everything was where it should be. I took my time sitting up and trying to breathe through the pain. It was shooting right up my side. I slung my legs out of bed and tried standing up. It took me over an hour to get to the bathroom. My body shook once I got there. I sat on the toilet with my eyes focused on the tub, seeing the spots of dried blood on the side. Anger filled me for so many different reasons. Reasons I don’t want to think about.
"You pissed her off," Ethan says, and I just laugh now. His foot goes up and down.
"I might have pissed her off,” I agree to that. "But from the sounds of it, you pissed her off by not asking her nicely." I point at him, and I don’t say anything else because she comes into the room.
Today, she’s wearing black tights with a white shirt that shows off a little of her toned stomach. "Good morning," she says, tying her blond hair on top of her head. I look down and see she has a white bandage around her foot.
"Morning." I smile at her, and she comes in. "How is the foot?" I ask her, and she looks down at it.
"I’ve had worse injuries," she says, looking at Ethan. "How are the wounds?” She looks at the bandages now. “Any bleeding?"
"No," I say, moving the covers down so she can see the clean bandage.
"Perfect." She looks around. "So today would be a good day to get out of bed." She smiles, and it lights up her whole face. It’s carefree and fucking perfect. "Ethan." She looks over at him. "Why don’t you help him to the couch, and I might share breakfast with you?" Then she turns to me. “Sorry, no biscuits and gravy for you. It’s a liquid diet for the next couple of days.”
"It’s lunchtime," he tells her, not even getting up to help. "And he can get himself to the couch. He doesn’t need anyone to baby him."
"I forgot you guys are big strong men. Shall I go outside and bring in some dirt so you can rub yourself with it?" She points with her thumb over her shoulder.
She walks out of the room, and I look over at Ethan. "How good of a shot is she?"
He gets up from the chair. "Better than me," he tells me, and my eyes open wide. He’s one of the best shots I’ve ever seen in my life. "We did a one-on-one when I got back. Brought out the cans from the barn. Lined them up. Two cans, different areas. First one to turn and shoot wins. She got it in point four seconds." I raise an eye. "Took me point two seconds more." I clap my hands together, laughing at him. "Now get your lazy ass out of bed. Because my sister is making biscuits and gravy and apart from my grandmother's, hers are second best. I will not let you fuck this up for me."
"Roger that," I tell him, and I swing my legs off the bed and put on the shorts he brought me this morning. I put my hands on the bed, getting up slowly, pulling the stitches tight now. I put my hand to my side when I stand straight and hope I didn’t pull anything. "I walk as slow as a ninety-five-year-old man."